Death's Requiem
by OceansAway
Summary: Beyond the edge there is no pain. Beyond the edge you will be reborn in the glory of darkness. I have only to let go... When Erik is left alone he knows there is nothing left for him in life. He only has one thing left to do... R&R please!
1. Left to Die

Death's Requiem

OceansAway

**I sincerely thank you for taking an interest in my story. This may be posted as a prologue to another story but I thought that this deserves its own little plotline. The story that has this in still in the making and only has a plotline set up. If there are any grammar or French mistakes, please excuse me. All I have is my English-French dictionary and my French teacher every other day.**

**This, though not nearly my first story, is one of my first fanfictions. If anyone else out there would like to beta these, I would appreciate it greatly. Because two betas are better than one! Just drop a line in your review.**

**I thank Brie for looking this over for me.**

**Please review! As I am new to as a writer please tell me what you think. A line as simple as "good job" is appreciated. Constructive criticism is what helps me improve. Help with French; grammar and spelling errors are all welcome. All flames will be used to roast marshmallows.**

**Disclaimer: I own none of the character mentioned. The beginning passage's lyrics belong to Andrew Lloyd Webber and the original characters are based off Gaston Leroux and Susan Kay's novels. I only own my interpretations of the characters' dispositions and the plotline. I unfortunately own the mistakes as well.

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**B/N: I wuv it! I'm so glad I'm your beta!! Shameless advertising: read StarryKnight46's fanfics! To all of y'alls, she wrote the requiem all by herself! W000000000000000T!!!!**

**Don't mind the quite-more-than-half insane beta….**

**3 Brie, aka StarryKnight46

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**Thanks for reading and reviewing!!! (hint, hint, nudge, nudge)****

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"Go now! Go now and leave me!" his rich tenor echoed on the cavern walls. "Leave me! Promise me! Never to tell! Of the angel who burns in Hell!" His angelic voice ran hoarse, unable to bear the emotion. He raged around what had been his home for the past two decades. Disdainfully ruining the splendor of his home, for it matter no more without Christine. His restrained sobs burst from his body. He had lost. He _never_ lost. He punished himself the only way he knew how. He ripped off the cover of the mirror, staring at the demon that dared to stare back. The evil voice in the back of his mind screamed, _Kill the demon! Kill it so it will never return!_

He obliged the voice, pounding the mirror with all his might. The mirror shattered but he kept his siege. Blood began to stream from his fists but he continued to batter until his bloodied hands were numb. His hammering continued until the stress, emotional fatigue and blood loss forced him to slump to his knees. The tears returned, stinging his sore face and mingling with his blood.

The moments Christine's lips had met his quivering deformed pair was the first few moments of bliss the affection-starved man had received in his entire life. Yet, as with all ultimate bliss it comes with a price, the skin covering his cheek was extremely thin. The veins could be seen pulsing and pumping blood to his ingenious mind. If the one was within an arm's span one could see the faint outline of the gums and teeth's roots through the skin. The muscles seen rippling under the skin had frightened many in his past. The pressure of her hands on his face, while wholly welcome had pressed against his sensitive nerves that had been damaged by his mother and his own unsuccessful attempts at removing the accursed demon residing on his face. The following result was a lasting impression of the sensation of her hands pressing against his face and her lips against his own. The mixture of his tears, pain and blood, an ironic blend for the murder's blood had been shed before and pain his frequent companion but the surprising taste of remorse for his actions for the first time, dripped onto the Persian rug staining it with his despair.

He turned to the fireplace. The scorpion and the grasshopper stood mockingly. Her reached for the grasshopper and turned it sharply to the right, past it's original position. A box was revealed. He opened the box; it contained a flask filled with a dry powder. He opened the stopper and took in the aroma. He was nauseated. His hand wavered as he dumped the powder into the glasses of fine wine he had meant to share with Christine. He swirled the liquid, unwilling to taste death quite yet.

He smiled. Christine was happy. So Erik would die happy for her, it was all for her. He decided to sing his own requiem, as his death was now inevitable. He had told her after his opera was finished he would soon after die. He laughed at the irony of it. The only lie he wished would never come true would end up being one of the few truths ever he ever told. But his brittle laughter was quickly subdued. His haunting voice was filled with anguish as he sang.

"_Darkness has triumphed_

_Fate destined it so_

_For the fallen angel_

_To wander the world endlessly_

_Cursed a life of solitude_

_Scorned by the multitude_

_The soul's cursed existence_

_Has ended!"_

With that, Erik raised the deadly wine to his lips. After tasting one sip, he decided that the wine's natural flavor was enhanced by the bitter alkaloid. The effects slowly begin to take affect as he continued the requiem.

"_Fallen angel she calls_

_An angel of paradise_

_Afraid to call the truth_

_Too kind, too gentle_

_To speak the truth as the others have_

_No kind words for the dying soul_

_For he is already dead_

_No prayer of safe passing for the dying soul_

_For he has sold his soul to the devil_

_Demon and fiend_

_The damned soul_

_Is promised to the devil_

_For Don Juan was never a man_

_He was Satan himself_

_The demonic creature_

_Sent to live a Hell on earth_

_Fought to live a life of love_

_But the devil fought as he does_

_With hatred, lies and deceit_

_So the accursed soul lived a bet_

_A bet between him and Hell_

_Born into a cursed corpse_

_He fought to set the angel free_

_Break the curse_

_Win true love_

_Live a life without love_

_Die and pay the price_

_The price of the soul of an innocent man_

_Trapped in the fires of Hell!"_

As the last note's echoes slowly died throughout the catacombs the effects of the poison announced their presence. He felt a sudden rush of energy. Afraid of losing his resolve to leave Christine in peace, Erik turned to his music. His organ, while covered with numerous scratches and the pipes were housing dents, could still play.

He would die in the arms of the only family who had ever accepted him, his music, and the night.

**La fin

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	2. Redeeming Light's Plunge to Darkness

Death's Requiem

OceansAway

**The last chapter could have been a good place to end but I felt inspired to make this fic live up to its EC standing.**

**I dedicate this to Phantom's Angel of Darkness, Shizzle and Starryknight46 for reviewing.**

**Disclaimer: I own only the character's dispositions and plotline. As well as the mistakes.

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**B/N: The plot thickens! I love it. Have you prepared Chapter 3, Nette? To all of you people out there, please review! It's for Nette's sanity! Or, at least, what remains of it. Don't mind my crazy talk…(mutters to self incoherently)**

**:) Brie aka StarryKnight46

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**Thanks for reading and reviewing!!! (hint, hint, nudge, nudge)

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"Angel?" The soprano's frightened voice echoed through the underground cellars. The echoes echoed through her mind until she was disoriented to the state that the caves repeated her maestro; _I am here, mon petite chéri. Yet you left. You have disobeyed the Ange ou Musique. Mon faible fille has grown forte. She needs her Ange no longer. Bonsoir, mon protégée. You shall live long with your precious Vicomte._ She shook her head, empting it of all imagined echoes.

She when she had left her Ang- no, Erik, he was only a man. Not to be forgotten, he was a man with an angel's voice but a devil's deeds. He had almost killed Raoul. Once she had left him she knew that she would return. Yet once they entered the empty _rue_, she had felt an instant longing for him. She told Raoul simply that she couldn't marry him. She had elaborated her tale a bit. She didn't mention her close encounter to death when she had removed his mask. Or how his face was implanted in her mind. Or how she knew that his voice would haunt until she was dead.

She had told Raoul that her heart belonged to another. That he had another chance at love, a fiancée with a title and a reputation rather than a meager chorus girl. There he had interjected saying that she was a Prima Donna! But she wasn't; at best one could call her an understudy. _I'm not paid as a Prima Donna and after this affair, if all goes well, I shall never have to sing again!_ She brushed the thought away, erasing the threat at the back of her mind. _You know if you were never to sing again you should be dead! If all goes well, you shall live with Erik and sing with him, daily. _Erik would never have another chance at love. He would live with love or she would die trying! _I must wash all these death wishes from my mind! I shall find Erik and we shall live happily ever after._ A small giggle escaped her. What nonsense she was thinking today! When had this superstitious side, much like Meg, entered her mind?

She had somehow, with her vague recollection of her swift departure and a touch of God-given luck, reached the Angel's Abode, where all must pay homage to music. She laughed again nervously. All was silent. Surely he could not have left so soon?

She stepped up to the door that was swung wide open, for the world to enter. "Erik. Erik, are you here? It's Christine. I've come back. I've left Raoul. I've come to stay. And I bear the truth. No more lies, from anyone." She heard a rustle from a distance. She headed to the kitchen where she knew she would find a lit candle.

On the counter next to the candelabra lay an empty bottle of wine. Next to the wine sat two wine glasses, one completely drained, the other filled, and on the counter lay an opened jar, now emptied. The only sign of its original purpose lay on the counter, tiny grains of powder remaining at the bottom. Next to it lay a red rose tied with a ring. With a closer look she realized the ring wasn't a simple band, as the one that he had given her, (which lay under her dress, over her heart) but was an extravagant affair. The ring was made out of beautiful white gold and was flecked with diamond slivers. The diamond slivers surrounded a beautiful garnet that was precisely sculpted to be a blooming rose. Her heart leapt to her throat as she tenderly untied the ribbon attaching the ring to the blossom. A wedding ring! She exchanged Raoul's gaudy ring for the simpler beauty of Erik's. Raoul had entreated her to keep the bauble as a reminder of their days at the house by the sea with Father and Prof. and Mama Valderius. As the sound of rustling papers and the gentle hum of the organ continued, she smiled and grasped the wine. He had surely kept the wine out for her, knowing she would return. She wondered at his inhumane instincts, yet drained the glass.

She walked into his room, where his organ - and he – were surely located. As she entered the room she saw his shadow turn. "Chr-Chr-Christ-Christine! No, no, no she has not returned, you fool! You have surely died or the wine must have had some effect on your sanity. I will forever be tormented by her figure, dead or alive. This shall only be the beginning. No, no, no… She is not real." His mind lost itself in his line of questioning, which his tone clearly showed. "Well, does it even matter anymore? I have had my taste of salvation and for the hideous gargoyle, the cup of everlasting, was a sad farce played by the devil. How amusing it must be to see his fallen follower suffer, as all of his followers have before and will after. Is there a point in my fetid existence? Christine, she was worth the world." A dry laugh erupted from his throat and was followed by a harsh coughing fit. "Yet I was worth nothing! The genius of the world! Yet cursed as a leper. Should I have kept Christine in my Hell? For as short of a time it would have been? No, for it was worth saving Christine from myself. I shall be comforted in Hell, when she can think of me in Heaven one day without the deepest loathing." Erik, the powerful Phantom, had vanished, only leaving his imposing figure withering in the cold face of reality. His whispers hung on the air as he looked at her, his eyes willing what he believed to be a specter to leave at first, gradually speaking in converse with only himself and his impossible mind.

"No, Erik. I shall not leave. I am real. Haven't you heard me? I left Raoul. I am here for _you_, of my own free will. Come, sit next to me." Christine entreated the mournful figure.

Erik quickly leaped over to the settee she afore mentioned. "I am no apparition made up by your grieving mind. I am here in flesh, blood, mind, body, heart and soul. And I wish to give them all to you." Her face shone so brightly with love and gratitude that Erik could no longer pretend that she wasn't real. She sat down and nestled her head so that her silky blonde tresses lay across his chest. They sat together for sometime. The locks begged for his touch. He gave in to temptation. He ran his thin hands through her hair and he could have sworn that he heard a soft sigh escape her lips. But as he was intoxicated with her and the tainted wine, one could never be sure. He bent his head over to lay a gentle kiss on her curls. She did not resist.

As Erik's mind slowly accepted the impossible fact that _she_ had returned, so did his senses. His mind clamored against his entirely submissive behavior. _What is the use? Now that I know she is real and I am to die it is really all for the better. Then before she commits herself to a life of solitude with myself, I shall have died. I will live my moments in bliss. I could never deny her if I were to live the right to live with me forever. Even now I cannot deny my soul longing for her. Her presence, her mind, her voice, her smile, her odd quirks, her love, they are what my dreams long for, that is if I sleep without nightmares, and that is assuming I sleep! She is perfect._ A pungent smell permeated his mind. He had a keen sense of smell, for a man without a nose. A cough escaped his throat and he frowned. His throat was beginning to tighten.

A petite cough escaped his beloved. Her breath stank of the pungent smell. She had drank the wine!

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	3. Fate of the Evil Shared by the Innocent

Death's Requiem

OceansAway

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**I am back! Summer vacation. Now I have time. Just going over this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I own Phantom of the Opera! shifty eyes I also own Jupiter, the MCA test answers and Hawaii. receives phone call Dang… That was my lawyer, I lost the case about becoming Mistress of the Universe. I don't own anything, I spent all my money on the lawyer… I don't own anything but the plot. And my dwindling grasp on sanity.**

His senses reeled with shock. This wasn't supposed to happen. In all the stories the handsome prince kills the beast. His story didn't vary far from the tree. The prince does not slay the beast, but instead the beast almost kills the prince, but the maiden rescues him. The beast, depressed as to his loss of the maiden, kills himself. That was how it was supposed to be. But as the maiden had taken fate into her own hands. She had returned, defying tradition. How long had Christine been normal? Never, she was always special.

_Stupid! How could you let this happen? Imbecile! You have never murdered a woman, and now once you get around to doing so you kill the only one who ever showed you the closest thing to love you will ever receive! How could this have happened?_ A frustrated cry escaped his throat before the barrage of tears began. Heaving sobs racked his slim frame causing him to bend over his knees, pushing Christine to the side.

Christine was quite astonished as to what caused this sudden change of emotions. She looked on and did what her father did for her. She rubbed his back and held him as he cried. When his weeping showed no signs of lessening she began to sing.

Erik's tears began to subside when the music began to weave itself throughout his mind. His breathing evened out as he ran out of tears. When his sorrow ran its course, he leaned his head onto Christine's shoulder. As her hands reached up to remove his mask, he moved his head. Her hand followed and took off the mask. They had little time left so he allowed Christine to look at his terrible visage. He closed his eyes, and Christine examined his face with so much interest that it sickened him. _What have I done to the girl to twist her mind that she can bear to look upon the horror some dare to call a face? _

"Oh, Christine! I must ask, did you drink the wine?" Erik's voice was laced with worry though he still hoped that his prediction was incorrect.

"Yes I did…" Christine's voice trailed off, wondering why he was asking so.

"No, no, no… _Mon dieu_! Why did it have to happen? _Merde!"_ Erik spoke with so much anger and regret Christine began edging away, frightened. Erik's eyes glanced at her, pleading with her, "No! Stay here! I apologize for my anger and… language…" Erik's normally pale complexion reddened. "It's just… Here, follow." Erik extended his hand, for it was dark. Christine quickly grasped his hand and followed him to the kitchen.

The kitchen was dark, for the candelabra that had lit the room for Christine earlier had all flickered out. He flipped a switch that allowed fuel for a gas globe, which he lit with a match. He led her to the counter where two wine glasses stood. One was drained completely, the other half-full. "Before I left for the performance of _Don Juan_ I had prepared my home for you. If you were to go to the Louis-Philippe room you would find it in perfect order. I had set out this wine for us. If you look at this rose," He lifted the rose. He looked sharply at her. She raised her hand to his outstretched hand. Erik was rendered speechless.

"The rose had tied around it a black ribbon. I untied the ribbon and accepted your ring." Christine reached for his face, for he was much taller and brought it to the level of her eyes. She gazed into Erik's eyes before proclaiming, "I love you. I could not live without you. When I left with Raoul, I felt I was losing more than I was gaining. I explained this to Raoul." At mention of Raoul's name, Erik's expression turned grim.

"Christine, do you expect me to believe the boy took it well? Now he will come after me. He knows that I can transfix you with my voice-"

"Stop it! Raoul is better than that! You give him too little credit. He is the perfect gentleman! He respects a lady's wishes!" Christine turned her to him, hurt.

A sigh escaped Erik's lips. "Christine. I am sorry. I did not mean to offend your friend. But he is stubborn young man. You must understand that I know his type."

Christine was persistent, "I know him much better than you ever will. But he is my past. You are my future."

"What is left of your future, my dear, is short. When you betrayed me-" Erik was cut off by Christine.

She interjected, "What do you mean?"

"Patience, love. When you betrayed me, I was very angry. I was prepared to kill for your love." Christine was silent, knowing that her shock would change nothing. "When you…kissed me, I realized that I couldn't take you from Raoul. That you were willing to kiss _me_ for him, live with me for the rest of your life for him, was the ultimate proclamation of love. I let you go. But I knew that I could never live without you. I put this," he lifted the almost-empty jar up, "in the wine, meant for me and not you. It's poison."

Christine gasped and was silent. She didn't know what to say.

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	4. Confessions Lighten the Soul

Death's Requiem

OceansAway

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**Whoa! Sorry for the really long wait. But now that school's out, I can update more. After this chapter, all that is left is the epilogue and alternate ending from my beta StarryKnight46.**

**His past is mostly Kay influence but I've taken some artistic license. **

**Credit to Ette on helping me with the ending and editing. **

**Chapter 3 was reposted but nothing significant was changed.**

**Disclaimer: As my attempt to take over the universe has failed I am left with my mind, and they took just about everything else away.**

Erik turned away, unable to watch the expression of hatred creep over her face. "I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do. I created that poison to kill. I don't even remember what I put in there. I'm so sorry." His voice diminished into a whisper as he started sobbing. Deep sobs choked his throat and he leaned onto Christine.

Christine did her best to comfort the man that she was used to supporting her. She didn't speak. She didn't trust her voice. She knew that life with Erik would be difficult. She knew to there would be hardships. She knew it might not work out. But she didn't except it to end so soon. "Erik, I'm sorry too. There's nothing…"

Erik straightened. "There is one thing. I must confess to you."

"No Erik, it's all right. You don't have to."

"Love, I want to. You deserve to know, I am the man that killed you."

"Stop it! You did not raise the glass to my lips; therefore, you did not kill me. But if you wish it, continue."

Erik took a deep breath, knowing that this would be his last chance to repent. "When I was just a child, I lived with my mother. She hated me, for all that I represented. I was the wall in her path. My face scared away my father. I scared away her doctor lover. My only friend was Sasha, my dog. The village boys killed her. For my birthday, I once asked my mother for two kisses. She refused. That is when I started to hate her. When I was older, she sold me to the gypsies."

Christine had retained her horror at his horrible treatment so far. When she heard of his abandonment, no, enslavement, which she sold her son into, she could not contain her astonishment. "How could she do such a thing? To her own flesh and blood?" Christine could hardly contain her outrage.

"Christine, she hated me. I cannot blame her. She became an outcast for bearing a demon, no ill deeds or scandal, just a deformed babe. With the gypsies, I was "The Devil's Child" for many years. After I showed Javert, my captor, my singing abilities, I was given a tent of my own. My conditions were only slightly better. Instead of my mask being brutally ripped from my face, I removed it myself. One day, Javert came into my tent, and… We argued… Suddenly I had slit his neck and the blood was gushing over my body. And I knew I had to leave. I ran, and ran, and ran." He looked to Christine for her expression. She was pale, and had her hands to her mouth, but was silent. She nodded for him to continue.

"After running for so long, one night stood out. I was in Rome. Have you ever been to Rome- no, no, you haven't. It is the most beautiful place. I went to see a building site. There, I found the master mason examining the day's work. He saw me, we talked, and somehow, I managed to get myself an apprenticeship. I stayed with him, learned his trade. But I think he was glad to have an apprentice. For he was lonely."

"Then, one summer, his niece came in. She was beautiful. She was always seeking me out. I believe that the mask drew her to me. I tried to avoid her. As my mother had hated me, I knew that she would hate what was under the mask. As the summer drew to a close, still Luciana – for that was her name – showed no inclination to return to her native Catania. I had fled to the roof to escape from her prying gaze. Eventually, as fate would have it, she found me gazing over the beautiful city. She demanded that I remove my mask. Giovanni came up to the stairs, and I breathed a sigh of relief. He would understand that I couldn't do that. But his curiosity overweighed his sympathy on the subject of my face. He told me that it was overdue. I was forced to relent to their demands. As I removed the mask and faced Luciana, she went white with terror. All the blood had left her face. For a scant moment I believed that, while it is human nature to be repulsed by my face, for it is distorted to an extend where it looks nothing human, that she _wished_ she wasn't. That although her body was repulsed, her mind understood, and she didn't care. That she held her screams for she wished to show that it was all right. I was wrong. She recovered her voice and released a blood-curdling shriek."

"She ran. She ran awful close to the edge of the villa. The plaster began to crumple beneath her feet. Another scream graced her lips, then she fells to the street below. I never looked down. I ran from Giovanni."

"I traveled as a magician. I would use my skills as a ventriloquist, and then show them my face. It paid well. Yet I hated it. Riches and skill are nothing without pride. I was well heard of. The Shah of Persia heard of my exploits. He sent the Daroga, Nadir, the man you had met, earlier. He brought me. I was to be the khanum's magician. Her mind was something of a nightmare. She ordered me to bring death. And death I brought her. I was known as "The Angel of Death"."

"She gave me… A slave girl. I was to do with her, as I liked. I gave her the choice of one night with myself, or death. She chose death. It seems all I could do to women was to kill them. Without touching them."

"Eventually I proved too powerful. I designed an elaborate palace for the Shah. He knew I could share his secrets with others. A warrant for my arrest was ordered. The Daroga was ordered to carry it out. Instead he helped me escape, under the condition I was not to kill again. I stayed on his conscience."

"Once out of Persia, I came here. I helped Garnier to design the Opera House. During the revolution I hide here, under the lake. After it was complete, I meet you. I tutored you under the guise of an angel. Little did I know that the roles were reversed." Erik went silent, unwilling to disturb the dust of the past.

"What of the man, Joseph Buquet?" Christine asked. That was the only murder she knew of. She had guessed that he had done horrid things in his past but she never guessed that he was an assassin. He still amazed her. She still loved him.

"Joseph Buquet had fallen into the torture chamber. As I was not present at the time, he killed himself. Il Muto presented a perfect opportunity to strike fear in the managers and to rid my home of his corpse. Disgusting, I know. At least he was given a proper funeral." Erik shrugged his shoulders.

"Erik," Christine's voice was soft, afraid.

"Yes, Christine?" Erik's voice was equally soft.

"I sometimes, I used to think, alone in my bed. I'd think about how I'd like to die... but never, in any of my fantasies, have I imagined dying in the cellars of the Opera house, in a hidden house on a lake." Christine turned to him, and laid her head on his shoulder. She sighed in contentment as his arms slipped around her.

"Yes... I'm sorry for that..." Erik's voice was sad.

"No Erik, don't be. What more can I ask for than to die in the arms of the man I love?" Christine turned her face up to his, put his mask aside, kissed him, and smiled.

As and they lay, entwined in each other's arms Christine could feel their hearts slowing down, to a rate where they began to pound as one. Their chests rose and fell together.

And as Erik's breathing and pulse slowed to a stop, she kissed him one last time. And she looked at his unmasked cheek and smiled. She saw Erik, in peace, as he should have been.

His face was perfect, a reflection of the state of his repented soul.

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	5. To Live on After Death

Death's Requiem

OceansAway

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**Here is the epilogue to Death's Requiem. Here is your last chance! Please read and review! Thank you for all of you have read and especially reviewed! If no one reviews then I have no way to improve my writing. And I believe that's the point of except for of course, reading fanfiction.**

**Thank you StarryKnight46 and Ette for editing.**

**It's done... sniff, sniff**

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**Disclaimer: I just don't own it. And after that little issue with the universe thing, I have to keep a low profile, I escaped. Shhh...**

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Epilogue:

News article:

The body of Christine Daaé was found under the opera house cellars. Comte Raoul de Chagny was called to identify the body as her fiancé but was unavailable. One Marguerité Giry confirmed the deceased as the former Christine Daaé. Another dead body was unidentified. The corpse was found with its face rotted away.

It was expected that Christine Daaé had known this man and died of a heart attack caused by the shock at the horror of the man's face. It is unknown of the man's cause of death. Antoinette Giry, the deceased's guardian, refused the carcass to be subject to an autopsy.

Giry, when questioned about her feelings on her daughter and the unknown man's relation she evaded the question and answered, "I hope that in heaven they both rest content." She declined further comment.

Marguerité Giry was devastated at her friend's death and was unintelligible at the moment of the interview. She is extremely distraught at news of the tragic death.

The Comte de Chagny refused interview.

The recent Prima Donna's wake shall be held at 14:30 on this upcoming Sunday followed by an evening burial. She is to be buried with the other deceased victim at her guardian's request.

The Paris Opera House is showing an encore edition of Hannibal where the young diva's triumph occurred only a few short months ago. An unknown Jammes Chagrinéuisée will be singing in her stead. Maguerité Giry will also be starring in the memorial production. Antoinette Giry will oversee the ballet.

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"Think of me,  
Think of me fondly,  
When we've said goodbye,  
Remember me,  
Once in a while,  
Please promise me,  
You'll try."

Meg stood off stage awaiting her cue. Jammes wasn't performing for the crowds tonight; she was performing for Christine, they all were. Tears threatened a torrent if she couldn't get her mind off Christine.

"When you find,

That once again you long,

To take your heart back,

And be free,

If you ever find,

A moment,

Spare a thought,

For me…"

_If it were only so easy to just forget._ Meg's gaze drifted off to Box 5. The Vicomte sat in the Phantom's former domain. The managers had given up on selling it, with all the rumors flying about they thought they might as well have the Vicomte's reserved seat not take up any funds, for no one dared rent the haunted box.

"We never said,  
Our love was evergreen,  
Or as unchanging as the sea -  
But if you can still remember  
Stop and think,  
Of me . . ."

Raoul's countenance was troubled, overlain with grief. The death of his fiancée was hard on him. The circumstances of her death only increased his sorrow. He was convinced that she was murdered. Meg knew the truth of it, but it was from no laboratory tearing up all that was left of her _petite_ friend. She hadn't run away when the police came to ask her to identify Christine's body. She had gone in, disbelieving. Nobody wished her _sympathique_ friend ill; she was the kindest, most gifted soul you could ever wish to meet. No, Meg had gone into the room with her eyes open, unafraid of the truth. Yet reality scared her again. Her _Manan_ had accompanied her to the room as both her and Christine's guardian. They had both gasped at the sight of the mangled bodies. They had been told that it was suspected that Christine had entered the Phantom's lair looking for evidence that her captor was truly dead. What she found was a body of what was suspected to be a stagehand or a minor actor that she had made the acquaintance of. And the shock had made quick work of the young girl's heart.

"Think of all the things,  
We've shared and seen -  
Don't think about the things,  
Which might have been . . ."

She couldn't help but notice the ring that graced her finger. She knew it wasn't Raoul's ring. Her mother's gasp only heightened her suspicion. Lying next to her poor friend's body was the corpse of _Le Fantôme_! As Madame Giry reached out to touch the man's hand she quickly pulled it back, gasping once again. It was Christine's ring! Meg was certain now that Christine hadn't died of shock. There were slight burns that had begun to form around his lips. At a closer glance at her friends face, she grimaced but noticed the irritated skin around Christine's lips. She kept her mouth shut. Her mother's face had turned white. She had followed her daughter's gazed and took a sharp intake of breath. Yet she knew this would be a secret she would take to the grave. There was no need for others to know of this secret union besides Christine, the Phantom, mother and daughter and God.

"Think of me,  
Think of me waking,  
Silent and Resigned…"

_Oh Christine! _A moan escaped Raoul's thin lips. He had to turn from the stage to hide his tears. If he could only pretend that it was Christine singing those words to him from the stage. They were so close. They had escaped _that monster_ and only had to live their lives together. _It was all his fault… _

"Imagine me,  
Trying too hard  
To put you from my mind."

_If he had only listened._ His poor Christine had claimed fear of his power over her. Admitted how enchanting the voice was to her. How he was always there, inside her mind. _He should have known…_ Her fascination in his voice was predictable; she would want to cleanse her mind of her past if she were to marry him. _And I thought I knew her… What have I done? _His shoulder felt a thin brush of what felt to be a hand. As he turned to look he saw that it was only the curtain. The curtain brushed him again, as if to point him to the stage. And as he gazed toward the stage he saw Christine's friend Jammes smile to him. A quick smile graced his face before his solemn expression took over. _Yet, maybe… _The curtain brushed over him a third time. He moved his hand toward the curtain breeze.

As Jammes paused and listened to the lull of orchestra she tried to move her mind from Christine. _Oh Christine! How could this have happened? You were so full of life! So happy to live for music and love! How could have it all gone wrong?_ A tear escaped her eye. She repressed her sobs. She was singing for a crowd of more than two thousand! She could not afford to burst out with sobs. Oh, but how Christine's ardent lover, le Vicomte de Chagny, had burst out with song with his recognition of Christine! How the same gentleman sat with an expression of pure sorrow and melancholy in Box 5, staring at her without seeing her. How much compassion she felt for the man!

"We never said,  
Our love was evergreen,  
Or as unchanging as the sea -  
But if you can still remember  
Stop and think,  
Of me . . ."

When the Vicomte's tears fell she felt that she couldn't hold out much longer. Her prediction held true, within moments the torrent she knew all were suppressing was let forth. Her dainty aria of longing became requiem for Christine. She continued singing pouring all her emotion into the song. And as she raised her gaze back to the Vicomte she saw a small smile rise over his grief for a brief moment before the hope barren look glazed over his eyes. She hoped that she could comfort him in his time of grief. For he was so kind. She hoped it wouldn't offend Christine if she could take her place.

"Think of all the things  
We've shared and seen -  
Don't think about the things  
Which might have been…"

La Sorelli entered the background of the stage, opposite of Meg. This detail differed from Christine's performance but it was a memorial to her memory. That she had been allowed to dance with Meg and Jammes was a great privilege to her. She knew she had not always been kind to Christine, nor could she claim such intimacy of friendship as them. But Christine had been under her wing and oh, how she had misjudged her! The timid girl had only been missing the childhood they had received, having been cruelly taken away. But Madame had asked her to do this, told her that Christine had always been grateful for taking Christine into their little group. It was the least Sorelli could do.

"Think of me,  
Think of me waking,  
Silent and resigned…"

As she danced behind Jammes, Sorelli reminisced the mornings when she had helped the shy Christine. How little Meg Giry had begged of her to allow little Christine to reside in _their_ dormitories! How Christine politely thanked her with her Swedish charm and bright blue eyes. And as the two ran off, nearly identical from the back except for their gaits, Meg's a skip and Christine's a lady's walk. She had always held herself as a noble with the ego of a country bumpkin. _How she missed the sweet girl!_ As thought those thoughts she felt a gift of strength from the shadows. She could carry on; Christine's ghost carried no grudge against her.

"Imagine me,  
Trying too hard  
To put you from my mind…"

Madame Antoinette Giry watched as her girls poured their hearts into their performances. This was different from normal productions. They always showed emotion, how else was the audience supposed to infer the feelings of the scene? But now the pained and sorrowful expressions were not forced. They were true and heartbreaking. Meg and Sorelli danced with the grace of the branches swaying in the wind. And little Jammes's voice was reaching for heaven. If only Christine could see this, how much she was loved. Maybe she did, for if anyone deserved to go to heaven it was that genial girl.

"Recall those days,  
Look back on all those times,  
Think of the things we'll never do -  
There will never be a day,  
When I won't think,

Of you..."

Antoinette's tears fell freely by this point. She no longer bothered to wipe them from her face. No one would forget this performance. And Christine's memory would live on in their hearts. Her heart was so big that you could wish for no kinder girl. The heartbreak surrounding her last months was only due to her naivety. And the quality only made the girl even more endearing. _Oh, _mon amour_, I will miss oh so very much _ma chériAnd as her tears fell she felt, deep in her heart, that Erik and Christine's love, for she had seen the ring, would carry on in heaven.

"We never said,  
Our love was evergreen,  
Or as unchanging as the sea -  
But if you can still remember  
Stop and think,  
Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah...

Of me . . ."

The audience rose to its feet, amazed at the passion in the young ingénue's voice. Blissfully unaware that the tears of the cast and crew were not for her talent, which she possessed in abundance, but of the sorrow that weighed heavy in all their hearts. And as the smiles graced the audience's faces, Jammes could fell the shadows granting her permission. _I am gone and he deserves a second chance. Lighten his sorrow, end this requiem._

* * *


End file.
